


while you're far away and dreaming

by blackkat



Series: Tumblr Drabbles [108]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Watching Someone Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-06 01:41:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15875862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: Hashirama wakes from a dream of fire and darkness to find his face mashed into the wall.





	while you're far away and dreaming

Hashirama wakes from a dream of fire and darkness to find his face mashed into the wall.

For a moment, he can only blink, thoughts slow to fall back from the horror in his head, and bewilderment rises. He peels his cheek from the wood, lifting his head, and then winces as his scalp wrenches. There's a body on his hair and, now that he thinks to consider it, a body pressed up against him as well, furnace-hot and plastered against his skin.

It only takes a moment to remember that it’s Madara, to breathe in the familiar smell of him, and Hashirama relaxes with a breath, briefly closing his eyes as he pushes the dream back. Carefully, he eases up on one elbow, pausing when he feels a huff against his shoulder, a restless shift. Madara doesn’t wake, though, just curls a little deeper into the blankets, and it gives Hashirama a moment to roll over, to settle down with his back flat against the wall.

Madara immediately slides into the spare inch of room, plastering himself over Hashirama’s chest like a leech, and Hashirama grunts, knocked back against the wood. His skull bounces off, unpleasantly hard, and he grimaces, reaches out to shake Madara's shoulder so he can have at least a _little_ of the mattress for himself.

There's a soft hum against his collarbone, though, a breath, and Hashirama pauses, fingers just grazing Madara's skin. He stares down at his lover for a long moment, and in the light of the full moon, the planes of Madara's face are clear, his hair caught back in a loose tail. He looks…peaceful.

Hashirama knows better than anyone just how infrequent uninterrupted sleep is for men like them.

With a soft breath, he softens his grip, strokes his hand down Madara's shoulder instead of shaking it. Madara grumbles faintly at the touch, wrinkling his nose, and Hashirama chuckles quietly, sliding his fingers back up the scarred skin. It’s not often he’d be willing to call Madara cute—he’s fiery, beautiful, driven, passionate, but cute seems too small a word for him most of the time. Not right now, though. Wisps of hair are tangled around his chin, and there's a line of dried drool on his cheek, pillow creases decorating his forehead. Not the fearsome Uchiha Clan Head, Konoha's next Hokage. Human, and soft in the depths of sleep.

Hashirama’s chest is tight, almost too warm. He strokes his fingertips down Madara's back, against considers waking him, but—

He’s sleeping so deeply, so peacefully. Each breath is warm against Hashirama’s skin, and Hashirama can't bear to disturb him. One night of slight discomfort is nothing if it means Madara is having good dreams.

He settles back against the futon, tugging the pillow closer to him since Madara doesn’t seem to be using it. Madara at least runs hot enough that he doesn’t need to worry about a blanket, even in the autumn’s chill, and he smiles to himself, letting his head fall back. Madara mutters something into his chest, huffy even his dreams, and it’s more than enough to keep thoughts of old wars at bay.

(Hashirama’s a little less amused when he wakes up mashed into the wall again, Madara pinning him there like it’s a wrestling match instead of a night’s sleep, but, well. Love always requires at least a few sacrifices, right?)


End file.
